


I'm The Thing That Monsters Have Nightmares About

by DontOffendTheBees



Series: Kurlish Week (AKA Murder Bro Mania) [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fusion, Angst, Backstory, F/M, Humor, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Prologue, Vampire Slayer(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 15:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12257202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontOffendTheBees/pseuds/DontOffendTheBees
Summary: "I'm not a vampire!"She frowns and looks a little closer at it. It's a he, she thinks. And he's definitely not Riggins. Darker skinned, fresher faced. No dumb 'stache. He's wearing the same kinda get-up, though. Tweed. Too much tweed. Glasses that make his eyes look huge. Although that might just be the terror. She pokes at his face curiously. Warm.Shoot.Kurlish Week Day 2: 'AU'





	I'm The Thing That Monsters Have Nightmares About

**Author's Note:**

> Yo yo yo it's me again!
> 
> This one actually kind of got away from me, in that I have tons of ideas for it and had an entire story in mind but very much ran out of time. So for now, consider this kind of a prologue- and maybe if we're lucky I'll have the rest ready for Halloween!
> 
> So yep, here we go, the Buffy AU that absolutely nobody asked for! Enjoy!
> 
> Want to see this work along with all the other awesome stuff people are contributing? Thinking about contributing yourself? Check out [Kurlish Week on tumblr!](https://kurlishweek.tumblr.com/info)
> 
> EDIT: Re-posting this here because the draft messed up the dates and it got weirdly buried! Also title change 'cause I think the Buffy quote I used before might serve better later on in the series.

_In every generation there is a Chosen One._

_She alone will stand against the_ _vampires_ _, the demons, and the forces of darkness._

_She is the Slayer._

 

 

 

 

It happened when she was… eleven? She doesn’t really know anymore. She knows she was young. _Real_ young, apparently- even the men who came to pick her up seemed surprised.

She may not remember exactly when it happened, but she remembers how it felt. It was like everything- a hug, a kiss, a punch in the damn gut- at once. One minute she was just Bart, and the next she was… something else. Some _one_ else. She couldn’t figure it out. She was pretty used to being alone in her body, now it sorta felt like there was something else living there. Something made of blinding light and creeping shadows and everything in between.

She didn’t get enough time to herself to figure out what the something was, either.

Thing is, when the guys came- the guys in glasses with the books and tweed- they took her away from everything she knew. Her mom, her dad, her dog. They gave her to one guy in particular. Riggins, the one with the ‘stache who only smiled when he thought it would get him something. Told him she was his responsibility now- stick to the program, bring her to her full potential.

He didn’t have to do much.

Bart took to slaying like a fish to water. And not just any fish, like- like a _piranha._ She swam in, _chomp-chomp-slice,_ she swam out, the vamps never even knew what hit ‘em. She mostly used the things Riggins gave her- the stakes, the swords, daggers and crossbows and cool shit like that- but sometimes you didn’t get that luxury. Sometimes you had to improvise. Sometimes she didn’t have a choice and she had to grab a vamp by its lumpy head, twist and pull real sharp, and let the super strength lent to her by the thing that isn’t a thing inside her tear that guy right off at the neck. It was tough, and it was messy, but she was good at it.

Turned out it was the only thing she was allowed to be good at.

Riggins didn’t let her see her family. Not even her dog. He didn’t let her go to school, or have friends- not that she met any other kids to make friends with, anyway. He let her have books, sometimes. But mostly they were boring books about really old vamps and demons that got some other slayer bumped off years ago so why was he bothering her about it? No TV, no movies, sometimes radio but only if he was there to supervise.

Naturally, she rebelled. Who the hell was that guy to tell her what to do? She didn't need him. She was the Slayer, she could do what the hell she wanted.

So she ditched him one night. Climbed out the window, stole a bike from some kid's garden and peddled home. She could go see her dog if she wanted to. Maybe she could even bring him with her, so she wouldn't miss her mom and dad so bad.

She didn't realise, all those years ago, just how bad the monsters wanted her gone. Bad enough to follow her, watch her movements. Bad enough to wait for the moment she seemed most vulnerable.

Bad enough not to care who else was in the house with her when they torched it.

She was young. She was scared and naïve and off-guard, and they got her. Got her good. Made sure she barely had a chance to get herself outta there, let alone...

Riggins found her there, later that night. Found her staring into the hollow, blackened remains of her home, like she was waiting. Waiting for some sign that everything she knew wasn't dust and bone.

It was her fault.

She should've stayed away. Done what Riggins said, kept her head down, let her family forget about her. If she hadn't come back...

Riggins took her away again after that.

This time she didn’t fight him on it.

She cut away everything. Everything surplus, everything that got in her way- thinking about family, about friends, about clothes or toys or that- that dumb dog. She learned to do without, she adapted, she focused on the one thing she was meant for- the one thing that could have saved her family if she'd been better, if she’d done what the universe _wanted_ her to do.

She became the Slayer.

By eighteen, she was a force of nature. The best in history, she heard someone tell Riggins over the phone. She hunted ruthlessly, single-mindedly, she got her man/demon/vamp by whatever means necessary, no matter how messy.

By twenty five, she was efficient. She got the job done- no survivors, no wrong calls. No collateral damage- she's never killed the wrong person. Not that you can really call the things she kills _people_.

Now she's thirty two. She thinks. She lost track a long time ago, honestly. She knows that she's old. By Slayer standards, anyway. Every time they get visits from the council, they always seem surprised that she's still there. They thought she'd be gone by now. Thought she would've made her fatal mistake, handed the job down to the next in line.

But Bart doesn't make mistakes.

Not anymore.

 

* * *

 

It's just another night. Kind of a boring night. Nothin' special about it. Stake, dust, rinse, repeat. She got three vamps earlier, over five graveyards- and seriously, why did a city this size need  _five_ graveyards?

Oh, yeah. The insanely high death rate.

Better question was probably why anyone _still_ lived here. If Bart had a choice and average human survival odds, she'd have skipped town years ago. But this is where the concentration of evil is highest, so this is where she has to be. No place like Sunnydale. She has a job to do. An  _important_ one. 

So this guy really needs to quit his whining and face the music already 'cause it's been a long night and she wants hot cocoa.

"Are you _crazy?!"_

Bart scowls. "Probably. Shut up, I'm tryna kill you."

"Wha-no! No, no, god, please I- I didn't do any-!"

Bart rolls her eyes. Typical vampire, always tryna weasel their way out of shit. None of them ever put their money where their fangs are anymore. "Save it, deadhead, I ain't got time for no more lying vampires tonight."

"Vam-?" The vamp blinks, terror temporarily replaced with confusion. "What the _fuck_ are you talking about?"

That gives Bart pause. It's... a pretty good act. "You. Vampire. Me, Slayer. Me stab you, me go home and sleep. Got it?"

"Oh, my god, you _are_ crazy." He presses back further into the wall, wide eyes on her stake. "I'm not a vampire! They don't exist! I'm just- I'm Todd! I work in a hotel, I, I just came for a night out with my friend!"

She frowns. Sniffs. Sniffs again. He smells like... Fear. And sweat, and something nasty and fake-smelling. Lotsa people wear that shit these days. Think it makes ‘em smell good. Maybe to people who don’t know what corpses smell like. People who sweat. People who think the worst of their problems is a lil’ sweat. People who don’t know better.

Human.

"Are you kidding me right now?" she snaps, shoving him in the chest. Not too hard- she might break him. "Then why did you run?"

"You have a  _stake!"_

"Why didn't you just sayyou're not a vampire?"

"Why would  _anyone_ think to say that?!"

She's pretty damn ready to chew this guy out for wasting her time when another voice joins in. "Todd?"

The guy- Todd?- splutters something and launches himself away from the wall, barreling past her back to the club. She lets him go, begrudgingly. She doesn't get near misses like that. She kills who she kills, and she never gets it wrong. Then some stupid guy with sallow skin and shifty eyes comes along and throws off her radar. Dude may not be a vampire but he was still shady.

"Todd! There you are, where have-?"

"Not now," Todd hisses, nearly at the back door she'd followed him out of. He grabs the guy waiting for him there, the owner of the voice- some confused looking guy with neat hair and a yellow jacket- by the hand and tugs him back into the club, eyes flickering back to Bart like _she's_ the weird one. Just ‘cause she tried to stab him with a sharp stick in an alley.

Nutjob.

She snorts, stamps out the guy’s abandoned cigarette, and decides her patrol's over. He was the only suspicious type in the club tonight, anyway. She tucks her stake in her waistband and her hands in her pockets, and gets walking. Kinda hoping something else might jump out at her on the way. Something distracting, stop her thinking.

Stop her wondering if those guys are still holding hands.

Wondering if it feels nice.

Damn. Why was there never anything round to stab when you needed it?

 

* * *

 

Something's weird.

She feels it the second she walks in the place. Something's different. She hunches into a defensive posture the second she steps through the door. Her eyes travel the length and breadth of Riggins' living room in quick, wary glances. Her fingers twitch over the stake.

"Riggins," she grates out, taking a slow, measured step further in. "Where you at?"

No answer. She hesitates a moment, thinking about ducking back out the door and climbing in through the window in her attic bedroom instead, catch whoever’s in her house by surprise.

Then she decides she's gonna kill them anyway, so it doesn't really matter if they're surprised or not. She shrugs and slouches into the room properly, whipping out the stake and nonchalantly twirling it. "Hey," she barks. "You gonna come out? I don't got all day."

"Coming! Just a second..."

Bart frowns. That was a lot calmer than she expected. She kinda figured a monster with the bad luck of stumbling right into the actual Slayer's actual house might be panicking just a lil’ bit. Maybe it didn't know whose house this was? Ha! The look on its face was gonna be _priceless_.

Finally another sound.  Footsteps. Great. Time to get this over with. Bart hops over the couch and, in a fit of whimsy, presses herself into the alcove under the stairs. All the better the jump out at ‘em.

Might as well have some fun.

The footsteps grow closer, crunch overhead, slowly descending. They're a lot lighter than Riggins', lot less purposeful. Must be a pretty timid vamp. Probably a newbie. Too bad. She coulda done with a real good fight, tonight.

Ah well. She’ll take what she can get.

They finally reach the bottom, and pause.

Big mistake.

The scream it makes when she lands on its back is a lot higher-pitched than she expected. It also goes down _way_ easier- she doesn’t even have time stake it before its collapsing on the floor and bringing her with it. One of its arms knocks the stake out of her hand- probably by accident, it was kinda flail-y. Bart grunts in annoyance, pins the thing with her knees and reaches out to pick it up again.

“Woah, woah, _woah,_ wait! Stop! Stop!”

"Pass."

"I'm not a vampire!"

She frowns and looks a little closer at it. It's a he, she thinks. And he's definitely not Riggins. Darker skinned, fresher faced. No dumb 'stache. He's wearing the same kinda get-up, though. Tweed. Too much tweed. Glasses that make his eyes look huge. Although that might just be the terror. She pokes at his face curiously. Warm.

Shoot.

 _"Seriously?"_ She grumbles, flinging her stake down petulantly. "Twice in one night?!" She grunts and flicks his forehead, ignoring the little _ow_ it elicits. "'Kay, whatever. Spill it. Who are you? Why you in my house? Where's Riggins?"

"I'm, uh, I'm Ken," he stammers, propping himself up on his elbows. He doesn’t get far with her weight on his chest. "I’m, uh, guessing you’re Bart? Bart Curlish?”

“That’s what they tell me.”

He writhes around a bit. He doesn’t look too comfortable. “Look, I’m really sorry, but can you, uh...?"

"Oh. Yeah, sure."

Bart lurches to her feet, and grabs Ken by his lapels to drag him up too. He seems harmless enough. And she knows he’s easy to knock down, now, too. "There ya go."

"T-thanks," he says, brushing himself down. He wrinkles his nose a little at the flecks of dried blood on his tweed, but he doesn't say nothing about it.

"You still got two questions left, bub."

"Oh, yeah, um-?"

"Why you in my house and where's Riggins?"

“In _your-?”_

“Riggins’ house.”

"Oh. Okay, um, well it's actually kinda... _my_ house now. Riggins is, uh... I don't actually know where he is, that's not really my job. In England, probably, tying stuff up."

She furrows her brow. "Whatchu talkin' about?"

"Yeah, guess I should've got right to the point. Let's start over."

He holds out his hand, and smiles. "Nice to meet you, Bart. I'm Ken- I'm your new Watcher!"

She stares at the hand. Then at his face. Then back at the hand. 

Yep. Something's definitely weird.

"...Okay."

But Riggins sucks, anyway.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked! Honestly, this bit didn't come out quite like I hoped it would- I blame my procrastination. Might revise it a little when I post the rest! (Which may or may not be a fairly open-ended series of one shots because I am getting Ideas™)


End file.
